How the Mighty Fall (in Love)
by TieMyShoes
Summary: "I could hurt you," she whispered, as the back of his hand rubbed against the soft skin of her jaw, "I don't want to hurt you." "You won't hurt me, Hope." "But-but I could, and I don't think I could live with myself if I did. Because I love you." XM:FC; Charles/OC/Erik (Rated T for angst, violence and triggering scenes that involve panic attacks and things alike.)
1. Prologue

_**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own X-Men; I don't even own my OC (she's not my original character; I took her from the Marvel/X-Men universe; I just kind of put her in First Class)._

_EDITED: August 6, 2014_

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_prologue: **the rain falls down my face, hiding the tears in my eyes**_

* * *

It was raining, the day of the burial. The skies overcast; thick raindrops melting from the dark clouds. They were crying along with her, as she shoveled the tightly-packed dirt, making a barely human sized hole. Every feverish breath she took created a smoky puff, reminding her just how cold it was, along with how unprepared for this she was. Her sweater could barely be considered a sweater—it was too light and too thin—and her pants were barely keeping her warm. With no hat on her head, her ears were starting to feel numb. Every once in a while she sniffled, proving to herself that she was, in fact, getting sick and it would be a better idea to do it all the next day.

But she couldn't.

She wanted to believe that his death—her brother's death—was not her fault, but she couldn't control the racking sobs and the apologies from coming; over and over and over. "I'm sorry," she wept, "I'm so, so sorry." Again, "I'm sorry." It was starting to become a never-ending cycle of pain and misery with him, though that never stopped her from loving him. It was ingrained into her every fiber to love and cherish the boy—the _man_—whom she had called home for so long. She grew up with him taking care of her, and when he needed her most, she couldn't take care of him.

_It's all my fault, it's all my fault._

"What's your fault?" A male voice asked behind her. She was surprised, to say the least, but she recovered quickly.

Her brother was also a telepath—a mutant—and tried to teach her how to block out his invasions of the mind. She had barely learned the basics when he _left_. She tried to block the man from coming into her mind, but she knew her barriers were too weak. While her brother was alive he had tried teaching her how to block people from her mind. He was paranoid about anyone whose powers were similar to his would hurt her.

She turned around slowly, carefully. "What do you want?" her words were slurred, her tone thick with the misery and anguish of loss.

The man on the left, the one who had spoken before, took a step closer, leading with his hand. She flinched back. He stopped, his hand dropping.

"My name is—"

"Charles Xavier." She finished, then cursed herself for her stupidity—what was she thinking?

He looked surprised, "You're a telepath?"

She flinched again; her brother.

"Oh, I must seem so insensitive, I apologize," he seemed as if he was about to continue, but his co-worker—friend?—cut him off.

"We want to help," he told her, "My name is Erik Lehnsherr, and, as you already know, this is Charles Xavier. We work with people like yourself—like _us_. We know you don't understand what's going on with you—or maybe you do, how should we know?—we want to make sure you're safe, and protected."

He hit home; it was as if he knew exactly what to say to make her weak.

She sighed, climbing out of the six foot deep hole, with difficulty—she was only 5'2". Even though she had dug steps to make it easier for her to walk out, the ground was muddy; her feet were sinking into the ground. She trudged through though, pulling her feet out of the soft ground.

Then, the bag was in the hole and she wasn't. She didn't even feel like putting the dirt back inside it, yet she knew she had to—he would have wanted it. She grabbed the shovel off the ground, and started shoving the dirt back where it came from.

Racked sobs once again filled the cold, wet air; pulling at the darkness that surrounded her. She fell to the ground, grabbing at the roots that she had broken off when she was digging. He was her last family left. Her blood, he had died because she wasn't good enough, wasn't quick enough. It was her fault.

A warning, they had called it.

A way to get through.

_**No.**_

There was a new voice in her head, a calm, soothing voice. He was in her head.

_No, you will not give up. You are so young—too young. You shouldn't have gone through this. Your brother was a great man, but he didn't trust you. That was his downfall. You loved him, yes, but he destroyed himself. And now you're letting him destroy you, too. I thought you were stronger than that, Hope Summers._

"It's rude to read people's minds," she whispered; though the comment didn't lighten her mood.

"We can take care of you. We _will _take care of you."

"Please help me."

**Xx.**

Raven didn't know who she expected to come through her door, but the girl in front of her was not it. A towel clad around her torso and thighs, and a shy smile gracing her all-too-beautiful features. The girl wasn't confident, nor did she try to act that way. Her red hair—even when wet—hung only just past her shoulders, making her look paler than she probably was.

"Charles told me that you had some clothes," she started, "and I'm sorry if I'm barging in on anything or if me asking is rude, but my clothes are wet, and covered in dirt and don't actually fit me, and I'm sorry if this comes across as rude, but could I please borrow some clothes? Please?"

Raven arched her eyebrow at the red-headed girl in front of her, but went to her suitcase anyways, "Just give me a moment to grab something that would fit you."

"Thank you."

"No problem," Raven replied, handing the girl a bright blue skirt and a black blouse. The girl grabbed them and thanked Raven once again before turning to leave.

"If you don't mind me asking," Raven said, "what's your power? I can show you mine, if you feel uncomfortable doing it alone." The girl was frozen in her place.

"I," it was as if she didn't know what to say, "I don't really know how to control them. I mean, that's one of the reasons why I'm here."

"One?" Raven asked, not sure what other reasons there would—_could_—be.

She turned around to face Raven once again, "There have been lots of things that have happened to me recently. Lots of things that don't need to be mentioned. And, there are people out there. People who know exactly what I'm capable of and know exactly how to exploit it."

Raven didn't understand.

"I-I have no family left. No home, no one to turn to. I have nothing. What else was I supposed to do? Where else was I supposed to turn? I mean, I know how cliché it is that they found me at that exact time, the time that I needed the most help." It was starting to turn into a deeper conversation, they were both starting to get uncomfortable.

"So," Raven tried to lighten the mood, "what's your name?"

The girl sighed, glad that the question didn't have much weight to it, "Hope. My name is Hope Summers."

Hope smiled at Raven before pointing towards the door, "I should go," she waved the clothes, indicating that she needed to get her clothes on.

Redness had started brightening her face when she turned to go, embarrassed by the situation.

Raven let out a breath, as she re-zipped her suitcase, amused—and confused—by the girl who had left only seconds before. She was different than the impression that she originally gave. Yes, she was shy, but she also had this aura about her—it drew you in.

Another knock at her door. Raven opened it, and wasn't surprised when Charles walked into her room.

"So, I hear you've met Hope." He sat down on her bed, without asking, "How do you like her?"

"She's," Raven stopped, considering her words; Hope was, "confusing. She seemed almost two sided, not two faced, but more like she couldn't make up her mind. She didn't know what to say. She was—"

"Scared." Charles finished for her, letting out a breath as he said it.

"Yeah, scared," she said, "how did you know?"

Charles mumbled something unintelligible.

"Charles?" She asked, still confused, "how did you know?"

"She," Charles sighed, contemplating his words, "she's been through a lot. Much more than the both of us. Combined. You need to understand that."

Raven still didn't understand, "Charles," she asked, seriously, "what are you hiding? What is she hiding?"

"Raven. When Erik and I found Hope, she was burying her brother's corpse."


	2. Chapter One

_**DISCLAIMER:** Again, I do not own X-Men; I don't even own my OC (she's not my original character; I took her from the Marvel/X-Men universe; I just kind of put her in First Class)._

_In reply to the anon Reviews I got on chapter "One" aka the Prologue:_

_**GUEST: AMAZEBALLS! Continue with this!** Will do! I have about four chapters planned out already, so yeah._

_**GUEST: I like that! xoxo** Whatever 'that' is, you're welcome for it. Glad you like the story._

_**UPDATE: Update soon.** Haha, here it is! The official Chapter one._

_Edited: 9/01/14 (sorry it took so long, i went to DISNEY!)_

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_chapter one: **and my heart breaks at the though of you**_

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You shouldn't be hiding. There he was again, invading her thoughts. And not in the nice self-inflicted way, no, he just liked to trot on over to her mind, and just listen to her think. Like she was some kind of test subject, or something else entirely.

She shrugged his words off; she knew she shouldn't be hiding. That didn't mean she would stop. He wasn't the boss of her.

Stay out of my head.

That was the thirteenth time she had told him to do that. Every time though, he just drifted over, and tried to find her, or get her to come out or something. It was more than annoying. He seemed to have a habit of doing that, even though they had met less than a week earlier. It was strange, to say the least, that he already seemed to have a pattern with her, as did she with him.

It was like they had known each other in a past life.

Not that Hope believed in any of that buddhist crap, but the likelihood that Hope Summers was the only person to ever look like Hope Summers was about as conceivable as Charles staying out of her head. Which was, all in all, very unlikely.

On the bright side: she was getting better at blocking people from her mind. Practice makes perfect.

"You really shouldn't," a voice that was so obviously Charles' called from the other side of the closet door. Hope rolled her eyes, and felt the small urge to punch him in the face. He was trying to help, she knew, but he was acting like an annoying little brother.

"Go play with your other dolls, Charles," she was mocking him. Trying to get him to leave her alone. She didn't want to be with Raven and Hank, third wheeling, nor did she want to be around Charles and Erik, both of whom seemed to only want to talk about her. Nor did she really want to make new friends as everyone around her seemed to urge her to. She didn't want people telling her what to do. Her small problem with authority always seemed to have her ending up in difficult situations.

"But your my favorite, Hope," he had a quick wit. She could give him that.

"I'd rather Erik come in," she told him. And it was true. Erik didn't constantly ask her questions she either didn't know the answer to or didn't want to answer at all. Erik was quiet, he never pestered her, or tried to get her to do things she didn't want to do, like Raven did. He was very, laid back. Quiet. Reserved. It was easy to be around him,

"I could come in if you want me to," that was Erik. He was starting to act like Charles.

Hope huffed, "You people are so annoying."

She unlocked the lock, and swiftly exited the room, swaying past the two men that watched her leave. She wanted to be alone, how many times she had to tell the men that before they actually heeded her wishes. She didn't want Charles bothering her anymore. Nor did she want Erik too.

She had no idea where she was going, though she remembered seeing a dartboard in the common room. She was always good at throwing with accuracy. Her older brother had been obsessed with darts - though that didn't make him good at it - and she had gotten accustomed to winning at it. She didn't know where her skill came from, both her mother and father hated sports and had little to no hand-eye coordination.

Though Hope hated to admit it - she really hated admitting anything - darts was almost a release for her. Sometimes, when she was upset at someone, she would pretend their face was the dartboard. She was good at hitting the eyes.

**Xx.**

Erik was not looking for Hope. Not at all. Never.

He just kept repeating it to himself over and over and over again. I am not looking for Hope.

But he was.

And, sooner or later, he knew he would find her. He just didn't know where.

When he and Charles had found the girl, she was burying a dead body. She was covered in dirt, and rain, and the sadness that she was feeling was almost deafening, even though it was a silent grief. She was small, and dainty, and fragile, and broken. Shattered.

But then she came back with them. And she was a different person. She pretended that nothing was wrong, that she wasn't who she was. She acted as if the person that they found at the graveyard—the grief-ridden child—wasn't there anymore.

But she was, and Erik knew it. Though he never went any further than she wanted him to. He never got anywhere at all really. Just small things—her last name, Summers, her favorite food, Kettle Corn—but never enough to satisfy the need he had to know everything he could about her.

"I'd rather Erik come in." Hope. The voice was undoubtedly hers. Charles was leaning against the door of a closet, where he assumed Hope was.

"I can come in if you want me to," It came out before he could stop it. Charles turned around, surprised by his presence.

A huff, "You people are so annoying."

The click of a lock, and the door swung open. Hope swayed past Charles and Erik, both of whom were carefully watching her walk down the hallway.

Erik wasn't even sure what to think of her; she always left him guessing.

"She's quite a specimen isn't she," Erik mused. She was, though. There was truth in him statement; she always left him guessing. She was unpredictable, and smart, and witty, and he never stood a chance against her.

"Very," he continued, thinking about the right adjective to use, "strong." It seemed appropriate.

"Mmm," Charles confirmed his thoughts, "She fascinates me. We don't even know her power yet, do we? But she's just so, interesting, on her own. You just get sucked in."

Her powers. Whenever he was around her, he could almost forget about all the mutant problems, about all the bad in the world. Hope was like a gateway to a wonderful world where nothing was wrong.

Erik followed the path that Hope had gone down only a minute prior. Her powers. He didn't even know them yet. Who was she? Who was this girl that seemed to captivate both him and Charles at the same time, and still leave both of them guessing? Who did she think she was, becoming something important in his life? Who was this girl he seemed to almost always chase?

"Hope." She stopped when she heard her name, and he was glad. It would be easier to talk to her.

"Erik," she replied, turning around almost begrudgingly, "how nice to see you." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm and malice.

"I would just like to know-" he started, but the look on Hope's face stopped him from going any further.

"If you couldn't tell already," the fake kindness in her voice grated against his nerves, she could at least show him how she felt, "I would like to be alone. Without any questions asked." She gave him a false smile, before turning around to continue on her way.

"You know, everyone would stop bugging you if you stopped being so cryptic and rude," he told her, putting back on the mask of indifference that usually covered his emotions, "but if you want to be alone, I'm fine with that." She turned around, slowly and robotically, almost as if she was trying to calm herself down while doing so.

"Me? Stop being so cryptic and rude?" Her voice was laced with anger, her face caked with disbelief and agitation, "Have you ever looked in the mirror, Erik? Yes, we all know you have some bone to pick with Shaw, or Schmidt, or whatever the hell his name is, but that's about it. And you want to know why I'm so, as you put it 'cryptic and rude'? Because I'm not worth it. I don't like people getting close to me. They get hurt, Erik. They die, or they leave me before they can.

She tok a deep breath, calming herself down, "I'm not worth it. I never have been, and I never will be. You have zero reason to like me, or - hell - look at me.

"Alone is safe, Erik. Alone is where I can't hurt anybody. You would know. But then again, maybe I was wrong about you."

She backed away slowly, scanning him, checking for every reaction, and any ounce of emotion that would come through. But, she left before she saw anything.

Her head held high as she slowly walked away from the scene that had just happened, almost as if it didn't.

Erik made sure of that.

**Xx.**

In the seventeen and a half years of Elizabeth Porter's life, she had never once met someone as annoying and irritating as Henry Fisher. She had never met someone who seemed to know her just enough to push all the right buttons. She had never met someone who, while seeming so nice and kind in the beginning, was so cynical and rude, and annoying.

And she had never met someone who looked so attractive while being so.

Hope groaned at the cliché-ness of the book. Of course he knew all the right buttons to push, and of course, she was irritated by it. And, of course, they fall in love by the end of the book.

It was inevitable, and irritating. As cliché things always are.

Though the book, named Postcards for reasons unknown to Hope, lacked plot, and imagination, Hope had read it more times than she could count. She always had high hopes when she re-read it - though she can never remember why by the time she had finished re-reading it. Hopes that, somehow, while it was sitting on her bookshelf, collecting dust, the book just got better.

She was always gravely disappointed; the book always turning out just like it had the last time, stupid and unrealistic.

Hope couldn't put her finger on why she always read the book again and again. She didn't have an emotional connection to the book, nor did she have an emotional connection to who gave her the book (to be truthful, Hope couldn't even remember who gave her to book, or even why).

"Is it good?" Hope turned around, not noticing the person who entered her room.

A girl, she noted, someone she didn't know yet.

"I'm Angel," she introduced herself, as she moved towards Hope. It was almost as if she had read Hope''s mind. Hope hoped not - one telepath was enough.

"Did Charles send you?" Hope asked, already suspicious, "Because if he did, you can leave because I'm not answering any of your questions."

"Charles didn't send me," Angel sat next to Hope, "Well, kind of. Raven's off, who knows where, and Charles told me there was another girl. I haven't seen you around yet. How long have you been here?"

Hope gave the girl a shrug, "I've been here for about a week. Maybe longer. I haven't really kept track. And Raven's probably with Hank. They're kind of," she made an obscure and vague motion with her hands, "you know."

"Ahh," Angel did know, "do you like him too?" Hope gave her a confused look.

"Who, Hank?" Angel nodded.

Hope barked out a laugh, "No. No. No, no, no, no, no. Never. He's, uh, just no. Not that he's not nice, because he is, it's just, him and Raven work way better together. He's not my type. At all."

Angel smiled, "What is your type?"

"Tall, dark, mysterious," Hope gave a small giggle, "Nah, I'm just kidding, smart, kind, funny, with very nice hair. I have a small hair fetish. And a back fetish. I love muscular backs."

Angel smirked, "You mean to say that you like someone else?"

"What?" Hope practically squeaked, her eyes bulging out bigger than usual.

"You do!" A different voice, coming from the door. Both Angel and Hope turned around, almost surprised to see Raven coming towards them, practically squealing.

"Who is it? Erik? Darwin? Charles?" Raven named off all the boys around Hope's age that she knew were in the compound, "Or is it someone more scandalous, like me? Are you in love with me?"

Hope chuckled lightly at Raven, "No I'm not in love with you. Or Erik. Or Charles. Or Darwin. I've only known you guys for- what? A week? Maybe a little more? Nobody falls in love in that short a time."

"Uh," Raven corrected, "Snow White did. And she's a princess. You shouldn't argue with a princess, Hope."

Angel laughed, "But who knows what goes on in that castle, Raven? They could be doing the, you know, or they could be completely avoiding each other. No one knows but them."

"Thank you!" Hope exclaimed, "They barely knew each other when they met. 'Love at first sight'? What bull-frog.. If love at first sight existed, then I would probably be boning the love of my life right now."

Raven snorted, as Angel gave Hope a look of almost - was it pride?

"Well, while we are on the topic of boys, which one is the hottest?" Raven asked, looking at both Angel and Hope expectantly.

Angel shrugged, "Darwin's kinda cute."

Hope coughed, before slowly answering the question, "I guess Charles is kinda nice looking. As is Erik. They both have nice faces."

"I KNEW IT!" Raven yelled, jumping off the couch, "YOU TOTALLY THINK CHARLES IS HOT!"

"Shut up, Raven!" Hope whisper-yelled, pulling Raven back down onto the couch, "They could hear you!"

"Oh yeah, like Charles totally doesn't think you're hot too. He stares at you all the time. You two should totally make out and get rid of that sexual tension."

"There's no sexual tension, Raven." Hope rolled her eyes,

Angel interjected, "You could cut the tension with a knife, Hope. You two totally should have a thing."

Hope laughed, "You two are crazy."

"Crazy in love with the idea of you and Charles." Raven sing-songed, smirking as she did so.

"I barley know him, how do I know if I like him or not? I don't. You two are basing everything off of physical attraction, which is not something I'm looking for. I want to like someone for their mind, and vise versa. I don't want a one night stand, or whatever." Hope told the girls, almost as if she was lecturing them, "Not," she continued, "that I'm looking for commitment. I'm not really looking for anything right now." She shrugged, giving the two girls a half-smile.

"Speaking of Hank," Angel said, looking at Raven expectantly.

"We weren't talking abo-"

"What's going on between you two?" Angel interrupted Raven before she finished her sentence.

Raven blushed, "Nothing much. He just wanted to take some of my blood for testing."

"Mmhmm," Hope rolled her eyes, letting out a small giggle, "and you two totally weren't just about to kiss when I walked by."

Raven's face started taking on another, darker, shade of red, "We weren't just about to kiss..." she trailed off, looking towards her hands, which were intertwined, on her lap.

Angel gave a small chuckle, "You liiiike him, you liiiiike him."

Raven didn't object as her face heated up some more. A small smile formed on her lips as Angel and Hope chanted the words over and over, "You liiike him! You liiiiike him!"

Hope was happy - for what felt like the first time in a while - to be around two girls, and to just have fun. She had never felt that kind of happiness around her brother - who was too dark and broody to have much fun with - or with her friends from home - who never truly understood what she was feeling most of the time.

It was different to be around people who understood her struggle, and chose to - not embrace it, but not blatantly ignore as she had her whole life. It was different to just let go for once. She almost felt in that moment that she could live a normal life.

Almost.

In a moment, everything came back to her. The grief, the guilt, the anger. Every feeling that had been lifted by the sheer joy of friendship, and conversations full on nothingness, fell right back onto her previously light shoulders. It almost felt like she was about to fall into an abyss of nothingness.

But she didn't.

She stayed awake, feeling the hurt and the pain that had haunted her only a small while before. She took a deep breath as she practically fell back into the couch, her heart beating at an unnatural pace, her breaths coming out rapid and uneven.

Count to ten, she practically screamed silently to herself, COUNT TO TEN.

"One." Raven and Angel both looked at her, worried.

"Two." They shared a look, eyes wide with worry and surprise.

"Three." They started talking to Hope, but she had already started blocking them out.

"Four." Raven started yelling, to whom, Hope didn't know.

"Five." Scared looks crossed both the girls faces as they waited.

"Six." Someone burst through the door, and Raven started talking animatedly to them.

"Seven." Charles rounded the couch, trying to sooth her with his ability. She had blocked him out beforehand.

"Eight." He shared a worried look with the girls, saying something that was obviously discomforting to both of them.

"Nine." Hope could feel herself calming down, though the chaos around her surely wasn't.

"Ten." She let out a deep breath and relaxed her shoulders.

"I'm fine." Hope declared, "I just need some time sometimes."

"Are you alright?" It was Charles. Of course he wanted to know. He always wanted to know.

"I will be."


	3. Chapter Two

"_She should be useful, very useful. But we just have to convince her to come. If we don't, well, the results could be disastrous. Force will not help us." It was a female voice, American, blonde and very, very smart. _

"_And once we have this Hope girl, no one stands a chance? None of the other mutants, or any of those pesky humans?" He spoke, in a superior voice, as if asserting his dominance over the blonde woman._

"_Oh, yes. No one will ever be able to defeat us, or her. She is more powerful than any of the other mutants. More powerful than all of us combined," It was the blonde woman again, leaning in subtly, as if trying to coax him into something._

"_We will win this war," the man said, standing up, "and all the unfit will die along with the ones unworthy of these gifts. And we mutants shall run free. For the first time." _

_She gave him a smirk, before standing up, and practically throwing herself on him, her lips attacking his with hunger, and need. Her red lipstick was streaked on his lips and his cheeks, marking the fact that she had been there._

_When she pulled away, the man pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the red off of his mouth._

"_You'll go to Russia for me," he ordered her, in the superior tone once more, "and I shall meet this Hope girl." He smirked at the girl once more, before calling out a name, "Azazel."_

_A man with red skin, and a scorpion tail popped into the room, as if out of thin air._

"_It's time."_

_**Darkness.**_

_Screams echoed in her ears, as she ran down the hallways, trying to follow the sound. She tripped, stumbling on the dusty rock, scrapes covering the palm of her hands as well as her knees. She got up quickly, knowing that she had no time to loose. The screams were quickly fading, as if they were walking away. She started off once more, this time more conscious of her surroundings; rock walls, and ground. Rock everywhere._

_Another scream: this time louder than before, almost ear-splitting. Pain and agony and sadness._

_She ran harder, until the walls opened up. A cavern, lit solely by a lantern, the yellow light just barely covering the middle of the room, making it almost impossible for her to see anything besides the almost orange rock._

"_So," She turned around, looking for the source of the voice, "what are you willing to trade for the safety of your family, as well as your friends?"_

_She gasped, as the light flared, and she finally saw the source of the screams. Her brother, her father, her family, tied against the walls of the cavern. Gashes covered their torsos, the newest spewing red blood, which quickly dripped down onto the floor, creating a dark puddle._

_Then there was all the people she had just met. Angel, with long gashes covering her arms and legs, the ivory of her bone just starting to show. Raven, her hands nailed to the wall, along with her feet, barely hanging on. Hank, hung upside down, shackles around his wrists and ankles. Darwin, with stab wounds to his arms and thighs. Erik, his limbs bend in unnatural ways. And Charles, light cuts littering his chest._

_She let out a scream._

_The voice chuckled, "What will you do for them?"_

_Her brother let out a scream as a cut formed on his stomach, blood slowly dripping from the wound._

"_NO! Please, no! I'll do anything," her father was stabbed, in the same place as her brother, "ANYTHING! Just don't hurt them."_

_All of the other mutants were stabbed at the same time, the blood was becoming too much. She screamed, "Please stop. STOP! No. NO!" Blood, so much blood. It was like she was drowning in the red that was seeping from each wound._

"_What will you do for them?"_

**Xx.**

Charles woke to the sounds of screams.

Yet, no one else did.

"No! Please, no! I'll do anything. ANYTHING. Just don't hurt them." A piercing scream, "Please stop. STOP. No. NO!" Agony, whomever was screaming was in pure agony.

Leaving his room quickly and quietly, his feet padded against the hardwood floors as he ran through the hallways, trying to find the source of the screams, and the pain. He came to a dead end, the end of the hallway where he had given the girls their rooms, and stared at the door at which the screams sounded the loudest.

Hope's room.

He cursed himself for not knowing sooner, and a god he didn't believe in for giving this girl these horrible nights, before he slowly opened the unlocked door.

She wasn't thrashing. She was still, her knees pulled up towards her chest, her arms clutching them so tight that the skin around her nails were white. He could tell there would be welts later.

She wasn't screaming, he realized, her mind was.

Blood. It started down her leg and onto the sheets, the bright red shining In the moonlight.

He didn't know what to do.

"Help. Help me please." He almost didn't hear it, it was a whimpered cry of pain and sadness, and she had given up. But, she still lay there, not moving. If he hadn't known better, it would seem as though she was dead.

Charles sat on the edge of her bed, not daring to get any closer to her. She jolted at the feel of the bed move, suddenly awake. She looked at Charles, the fear in her eyes shining.

_Please_, it was her thoughts.

He scooted closer to the center of the bed, where she was laying, and pulled her close.

"You make it through," he told her, as he rubbed her back as a soothing gesture and clutched her whimpering body close, "you're strong. And you have me. You'll always have me." He didn't even know this girl, he told himself. Nothing about her. She was a mystery to him, yet here he was, consoling her in her darkest time.

"Blood," the word were quiet, but Charles heard them loud and clear, "so much blood. Everyone was hurt, everyone was dying. And the blood, oh the blood."

She let out a small cry, but he shushed her, "You're alright. I'm here. You're alright."

He didn't know what possessed him to say that, but he knew it felt somehow right. She was scared, and the words felt _so_ right. She relaxed into him at the sound of his voice, and the words spoken with them.

Her hands held tightly to his bare chest, holding onto the sides of his ribs as if for dear life, while her head laid right above his heart. Their legs tangled together, hers half on top of his. While his arms were tight around her hips in an almost protective way, he drew small designs on the small of her back, lulling her to fall back to sleep.

They laid, for a long time, both of them falling asleep at one point, though neither of them knew when.

**Xx.**

Raven wasn't one to snoop.

Or, she liked to believe that.

But, when she knocked on Hope's door and she didn't answer it, Raven credited the fact that she opened the door to her curiosity about the girl.

Hope's mysterious. You can't expect me to just not open the door, was her personal reasoning.

Raven wasn't even sure what he would find. Maybe the bed was made, and Hope was just in the shower when she knocked. Maybe Hope was a heavy sleeping, or maybe she snored.

What Raven did not expect was a shirtless Charles hugging Hope to his chest while they both slept soundly.

Raven did not expect that at all.

So, she did what first came to her mind. She closed the door softly, and walked herself to the kitchen before letting out a squeal.

"So," Raven as Hope sat down for breakfast, "you and Charles, huh?" Charles' face snapped in their direction, as did almost everyone else at the tables. Erik's showing something close to anger. Raven stashed that in the back of her mind before looking back at Hope.

Hope's face turned a shade of pink, before she whispered, "It's not like that."

"Sure," Raven rolled her eyes, before winking at Charles, who gave her a shocked look.

"It's not," Hope's voice was a bit louder, and when Raven gave her a disbelieving look she continued, "I have nightmares, almost every night. And for some reason, last night Charles knew. He calmed me down, and helped me fall back asleep. I don't even remember the dream, but I know that it scared the living daylights out of me."

Hope stood up, and threw her napkin on her plate, "Look, Raven, I get that you think it'd be, I don't know _right _or something, if me and Charles had this 'office romance' type thing, but you need to get it through your _thick _head that I do not that right now. Nor, do I believe, does Charles. So, if you could step back for a moment at stop trying to set me up, I would really appreciate it." Hope practically stormed out, and seconds later an ear-piercing scream came from the hallway she had just entered, followed by a string of curses.

"She's telling the truth," Charles affirmed, "But, you didn't have to bring it up in front of everyone, Raven. I thought you were better than that." He left the room, following after Hope, leaving a half-finished waffle and a cup of apple juice laying on the table.

"What the hell happened?"

Erik.

"I found Charles shirtless on her bed. I mean, I kind of assumed and I guess that wasn't right but I mean, she was just wearing her bra and her was shirtless and-"

She cut herself off, seeing the look in Erik's eyes that worried her. It wasn't anger, no, that was when Charles had let Schmidt get away. No, this was something else.

Jealousy.

Raven knew it. She knew that it wasn't just her mind playing tricks on her. Erik, oh Erik, liked Hope. He probably didn't even notice it yet, they had only know each other for well under three weeks.

This was jealousy. Charles had had an intimate moment with Hope, while he was practically thrown in the dustbin. Hope had chosen to share something with Charles that none of the other knew. He was getting close to Hope, while Erik was sitting at the table listening to Raven talk about their exploits.

Erik Lehnsherr was _very_ jealous.

**Xx.**

Hope hummed as she threw another dart towards the bull's eye, hitting it close to the center. She smirked at her accomplishment, humming the tune to "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." She felt so cliché singing the song, but it was the only song she knew by heart.

Her mother had loved the movie more than anybody Hope had ever met. Judy Garland was one of the few people that her mother had ever looked up to: "anyone—any _woman_—who can make their name that important deserves to be praised for her accomplishments." Wendy Summers would preach to her daughter.

Another dart was thrown: harder, this time. With more accuracy.

"Your mother seems like a nice woman." Hope didn't even react to Charles entering the "we-have-nowhere-else-to-keep-the-mutants-so-let's-just-shove-them-into-a-tiny-room-with-a-couch-and-some-food-in-it-and-hope-they-don't-compain" room (as Hope liked to call it). She wasn't surprised either; she was expecting him to come after her.

"Seemed." Hope corrected, "She's not very nice anymore. Well, actually," she turned around and faced Charles, "I wouldn't know. Haven't seen her since I caught her getting frisky with my boyfriend when I was seventeen."

Charles' face contorted, switching between emotions, before finally settling on empathy. Though he didn't say anything: he didn't know what to say.

"I understand," she told him, "there's not much to say when someone tells you something like that." They lapsed into a silence after that, the almost inaudible sound of their breathing, and the inconsistent tap of the darts hitting the worn dartboard the only sounds that seemed to matter.

Hope wasn't hitting the dartboard anymore though: it was always too far to the left. She sighed as her twelfth dart hit almost the exact spot it had beforehand, and ran a hand through her stringy red hair.

"You need some help?" Charles asked, getting up from his seat on the couch.

"Yeah," Hope said, putting her hand up to get ready to shoot another dart, "I just can't seem to aim right—I mean that in both the literal and metaphorical sense." She gave a breathy laugh at her unintentional pun, as did Charles.

"Here, let me help you," he put his hand over hers, his arm following the curve of her own, relaxing into her back seamlessly. His mouth was at her ear, seeing as she wasn't even close to as tall as him.

"Just relax," he whispered, his arm guiding hers back, before shooting it forward, the dart hitting too far to the right.

Hope snorted before stepping away from his embrace.

"You think practically dry humping me while helping me throw darts is going to make me weak in the knee's and fall into bed with you?" Hope questioned, giving him a disbelieving look, "Don't even try to deny it. I've been inside your head, mister. I know about all the times you've checked out my ass." She threw him a scathing glare before throwing the last dart at the target, and storming out of the room.

She didn't even get to see if she was on target.

She was.

Hope had a list of the seven most annoying things anyone could ever do to her: and number three was touching her without her consent. After the incident when she was sixteen (which involved her boyfriend at the time accidently popping her arm out of its socket), she didn't really take kindly to people touching her when she didn't want them too.

Hope walked through the halls of the facility, not really caring—or noticing—where she was going. The anxiety and anger had made its way through her system almost as soon as she had left the room; she just didn't want to face Charles. As much as she wanted to apologize for her outburst, she knew that it wasn't something she should feel sorry for. He invaded more than her personal space often, and as much as he had helped her the night before, she just couldn't let that go.

_You need to learn boundaries, Charles._

She knew he was inside her head. It wasn't like he couldn't stay out for long periods of time.

_**And you need to learn to control your temper.**_

She scoffed at his accusation. Yes, she had had two outbursts that day, but both were justified. She had a lid on her temper; everyone else just needed to learn not to cross her boundaries. She was much more powerful than all of the mutants they had gathered up combined. And while she couldn't fully control her powers, she knew that she could do much more than any of the others could.

_I would if everyone learned that there are lines you shouldn't cross._

"Ah, but where's the fun in that?" Hope twisted around, only to find herself facing Erik, whom she had assumed had followed her.

"Is stalking a fun hobby, Erik?" Hope was starting to get annoyed with everyone not leaving her alone.

"It's only stalking if the attention is unwanted," He flashed her a dazzling smile, and while it would have made many women go weak in the knees, it just grated against her nerves.

"Oh, the attention is _more_ than unwanted," She said, before walking away from him, hoping that he would just leave her alone.

"You don't believe that," He ordered her, catching up quickly.

"Oh, but Erik, I truly do."

"I refuse to believe that."

"Well, refuse all you want. Doesn't make it any less true." It was starting to become fun, arguing with Erik. He had a quick wit, not unlike Hope. They could keep up with each other.

"Your truth is only an illusion created by your anger and anxiety."

"Your truth is only a fantasy brought to life by your unlimited curiosity about me."

"No," he smirked at her, "it's just really fun to rile you up."

She scoffed, and rolled her eyes, but let a small smile creep onto her face.

"I would say the same, but it would be unwarranted. It's just nice to have a conversation that doesn't involve my past, or my powers." She looked at the ground, her walking ceasing, "It's hard, you know," she looked up, "talking about things that make you want to cry without doing so. I feel as if everyone in this facility expects me to be the messiah."

She shook off something that wasn't visible, before placing a clearly fake smile on her face. She didn't want to burden Erik with her problems; he already had his own.

"You're only human," Erik winced at his wording when Hope threw him a look, "Let me rephrase that: you're only mutant. You can only go so far before you break. We just don't know how far yet."

Hope cocked her head to the side, "You sure you want to find out what happens when I break? I'm dangerous and unpredictable. Not a good combination."

"_Most_ of the time." He was trying to help.

It wasn't working.

"Exactly. Most, means majority, which means that almost all the time something bad will happen." She was starting to get frustrated once again, "Why don't you ask my broth what happens when I get angry or upset or anxious? OH! Wait! HE'S _DEAD_, ERIK. Bad things happen when I break. _Very_ bad things. You remember what you saw when you first saw me? Yeah, THAT'S what happens when I break. Bad things happen to the people I care about and it's _all my fault_."

She wanted to cry, she wanted to fall to the floor and curl up and just let everything she had been keeping in out.

_Not in front of Erik. Not in front of anyone._

"You think you know me," an angry sigh, "hell, you think you own me. But guess what? I am not someone you want to mess with. I am way past my point of no return at the moment, Erik. So, if I were you I'd turn around and walk away before I break your neck."

But she walked away before he could answer. Her resolve was holding only so much: not enough. Hope's room was close, she just needed to hold up for a little longer. Her breathing was starting to become faster, and shorter. Her jaw locked.

She knew the feeling: it happened every time she cried.

_Just a little longer._

Tears started to leak from her eyes, unwillingly. She was close to her room, she knew exactly where she was. She sped up, trying to get there quicker.

A whimper made its way through her throat, and just barely got out of her mouth.

Hope slammed open the door to her room and closed it just as quickly, before sitting in front of it.

She didn't want anyone to see.

She didn't want anyone to know.

**Xx.**

Alex Summers didn't realize it was Hope until her saw her.

Summers was a common last name. He didn't expect her to be someone he knew, someone he was related to. Yet she was.

Hope and Alex were close growing up, along with Scott, Hope's older brother. But then Alex's mother took him away. She moved him across the country on the basis that her brother wasn't normal.

He wasn't, but as it turned out, neither was her son.

So, more than ten years later, when Alex see's Hope with his – and apparently her – fellow mutants, he felt a joy that he hasn't felt in so long.

"Hope."

"Alex."

Their hug lasted ages, and no one else understood. Were they related? Because yes, they're last name was the same, but was that something else?

"You're alright." She was crying into his chest as they rocked back and forth, "You're alive."

"Of course," he whispered back, "I could never leave."

It seemed like a proclamation of love, but the two knew that they were the only ones left. They were the last of the Summers' clan. They were it.

"He's gone," her sobs were more constant as she told him about her brother, "He left us."

Alex just held onto his cousin for dear life. She was so fragile, she was so breakable, and he couldn't decide if she was still in one piece or not.

Because, really, Hope herself wasn't sure.


End file.
